


20th Century Boy

by BigDeacEnergy



Series: Life's A Gas [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brian is the Scrabble KING, Freddie is the best, I am Niamh and I'm still shook, John Deacon making mistakes, M/M, Sad!John, StillInLove!Roger, Strong Language, Wow did Niamh just say a HAPPY ENDING?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigDeacEnergy/pseuds/BigDeacEnergy
Summary: John Deacon has become a victim of the 20th Century. His drinking has gotten worse, his anxiety is through the roof, his divorce has been finalised...However, now he has new options to explore. Options that are unfamiliar and a little frightening to him and go by the name of Roger Taylor.~Named after the song '20th Century Boy' by T. Rex.





	20th Century Boy

**Author's Note:**

> The follow-up is here! She's longer than expected but she's here and she's angsty...as usual.

The drizzles and frosty spells that had plagued England for the majority of the beginning of 1986 persisted even into April. John was almost convinced that the weather was mocking him, intending to convey just how miserable he truly felt within for all the rest of the country to see as well. A constant, bitter reminder of the gloom that had settled so deeply within his life for the foreseeable future and was plastered everywhere, demanding to be seen and tauntingly endured at all times.

There had been only a precious few days of sunshine in the preceding months and the bassist recalled one of those days rather fondly. The day had been bright and glorious and his closest friend had paid him a visit, one that had changed everything he had been so sure of up until that moment. John had been set firmly on resigning from Queen and putting his touring, partying and, well, rockstar days behind him yet the drummer had managed to change his mind so quickly he had almost given himself whiplash. Though the brunet would never pay it much attention, there had always been a small part of his heart reserved for only his wild, impulsive and downright chaotic friend whom he respected whole-heartedly for being all of those things with levels of confidence that had always been lacking in his own life. Roger had wasted no time at all in tugging passionately on those heartstrings that would sing for him alone and thus, it was all his bloody fault that John was standing outside of their rehearsal area, bass in hand, ready to enter back into that hectic world once more.

Creaking obnoxiously on ancient hinges that begged to be oiled, the door swung forward as the bassist heaved on it. Within what couldn’t have even been a whole second, the brunet had been engulfed within strong arms and kisses had been plastered upon both of his cheeks.

“So good to have you back, darling.” The singer beamed with emotion heavy in his voice and his dark eyes brimming with grateful tears and John couldn’t help but smile tenderly right back at him. No one could bring a grin to his face quite like Freddie Mercury could and he was entirely sure that everyone who had ever met the flamboyant, awe-inspiring man felt exactly the same way.

“It’s good to be back … even if I wasn’t even able to manage a full day of leaving your sorry arses.” John sighed, shaking his head at his own lack of resolve; however Freddie was aware that it was all in jest and gave a great chuckle that brought warmth to the bassist’s chest.

A scoff was audible within a voice that John had spent many prior nights dreaming of, and subsequently cursing his subconscious for, as it boomed from the other side of the room: “The cheek of it! You can’t live without us and you know it. You’d have been back here in no time, begging us to let you take over from whatever replacement bassist we’d found because you didn’t like the way they played ‘Dragon Attack’, or something.”

John’s eyes - that had been locked on Roger from the moment he had first opened his mouth - narrowed as they observed the movements the blond made as he ventured closer to him from where he had been firmly placed behind his kit, tapping out a beat that had been stuck in his head. “Oh. So I’m that replaceable, I see? Well, then maybe I should go so you can get this other person in, the one who apparently can’t even play our songs right.”

The bassist made a play to head back towards the door but was restricted from doing so as Roger’s hand had enclosed around his wrist and held him securely in place, as if he was fearful that to let go of him in that moment would result in the brunet being lost forevermore. “There’s only one of you, Deacs.” The man ventured in a low voice that was little more than a hum, his gaze burning deeply into the brunet and stealing his breath away - yet he’d deny to the ends of the earth that it ever had.

Before John had comprehended what he was about to do, he had pounced on his shorter friend and entangled his arms around his frame so that he could hold the man all the closer. “Hi, Rog.” He whispered, his voice muffled by that messy, blond head of hair. The brunet breathed in the warm, welcoming and oh so familiar scent of cigarettes; the other man’s favourite brand of aftershave and something else that he had never quite been able to place but had always screamed “Roger” to him. He felt a new and burning sense of comfort erupt and engulf him, placing him suddenly at ease. Safe and content within his friend’s dependable embrace was exactly where John had longed to be from the moment he had last - and extremely reluctantly - abandoned it, leaving him cold and alone. The bassist ignored with all of his might how his heart had seemed to positively glow from the moment his skin had made contact with the older man’s. Instead, he continued to clutch onto Roger as if he was the force that held him to the earth and was endlessly stronger than gravity.

“Nice to see you, mate.” Brian announced following an obvious, rather awkward clearing of his throat that had caused the two men to break their prolonged hold on one another long before either of them had been ready to do so. “How are you doing?” The guitarist queried, gripping the new arrival’s shoulder affectionately.

“Better. It’s not the easiest time of my life but I’ll get there, I know I will. It will just be a little difficult.”

“I understand.” Brian responded as he nodded in acknowledgement.

John wasn’t alone in having marriage troubles and the band knew it all too well. The lifestyles that the members of Queen had shared in for over fifteen years had been turbulent and thus harsh and unforgiving to relationships. It had always seemed only a matter of time before at least one of them had buckled under the relentless pressures of the 20th Century that they faced. However, every one of them would have placed their bets on Brian and Chrissie being the first to crumble as opposed the previously resilient John and Veronica, as a result of the curly-haired man’s long history of infidelity.

The upcoming tour had crept up on the band as swiftly and stealthily as an unyielding predator would whilst stalking its prey and so the quartet wasted not a single one of their precious seconds any further on small talk. The men easily drifted back into the solid foundations they had formed together when they were little more than teenagers - all besides John whom, at the time, had still been yet to see his 20s - and the room erupted with the music that had changed countless lives all over the world.

Grey/green eyes drifted in their seasoned, well-practised manner through the chaos and settled upon the drummer. John observed in reverence as Roger hammered on his kit with all of the force he could muster and the man couldn’t help but follow the alluring journey a bead of sweat took as it trickled tantalisingly downwards from his chin to his neck, on and on. The drummer’s timing was so perfect alongside John’s bassline that the brunet became overwhelmed by the strength of their connection - the connection that glimmered just as brightly then as it had the first time they had ever played together.

As Roger sensed he was being watched, he raised his striking, blue gaze from his instrument to meet the bassist’s eyes with a dazzling, glowing grin that wiped John’s mind entirely clean of anything that wasn’t his closest friend. Only the brunet’s muscle memory allowed him to keep on playing as he became blissfully oblivious to the fact that they were not the only two in the room and in the rest of the world. This sensation was one that the bassist knew as well as he knew how to fix Brian’s amplifier that was crackling every few seconds or so and was just itching to get his experienced hands on.

John had been taken aback by the strength of his and Roger’s bond for as long as he could remember but had always chalked it up to the power of the “collosal sonic volcano” as they had once, long ago, been styled. Old habits always die hard, especially in the bassist’s life. As a result, when he had finally wrenched his sight from the other man, he blamed the uptick in the beating of his heart on nothing more than the strength of their rhythm section partnership and chastised himself for his wandering gaze. However, he had not relinquished the hold Roger he held so steadily on his eye-line without flashing him his signature smirk, the one he know never failed to bring a rosy blush to burn dazzlingly on his friend’s face.

The following rehearsals proceeded to evolve as painlessly as the first had transpired, with only a few, brief music-related spats between the members arising before being swiftly resolved. However, despite the perceived ease of slipping back into the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle that his bandmates had congratulated him for, John discovered how his anxiety crept up bit by bit, every single day, as the opening night of their tour drew ever closer. The man found himself wishing for even just a taste of alcohol to dull the nerves. Eventually, he fell prey to these desires and began to bring bottles of assorted beverages along with him to the rehearsals, stored safely inside of his amp. It was only the drummer that even seemed to bat an eyelid at his behaviour; Freddie had found it amusing and declared John a genius for considering such an inspired hiding place. Roger, however, would throw out infuriating suggestions that were beginning to cause tensions to arise between the youngest members such as “Don’t you think you should wait a little longer before refilling that glass, Deacs?” and the bassist was never far behind with his biting, cool responses of “Don’t you think you should mind your own business, Rog?”

The warmth that had smouldered within the brunet’s chest during the initial days of rehearsals every time he would glance towards the drummer had been extinguished and replaced, frosted over by irritation towards him. Whenever Roger would attempt to catch his eye, John responded with an ice-cold look of stony indifference before terminating their eye contact and instead moving closer and into the light of the singer. During their rest breaks, the bassist would brush off any and all of the other man’s attempts at small talk and respond with nothing more than bitter and unfeeling silence before melting away from his sight as simply as snow in the sunshine.

Eventually, during the final week before Queen were to begin touring, Roger caught up with John as he was about to venture outwards from the building and towards the comfort of his home after a gruelling day. The drummer ensured that the taller man wouldn’t escape his contact as he had crowded into his personal space so that the man’s back was pressed up against the door and Roger’s hand rested next to the other’s head.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, okay?” The drummer announced, a sense of urgency in his voice as he attempted to propel out all that he had to say before John managed to slip away again. “I get that you’re pissed at me and probably think I'm a hypocrite for judging you when it comes to how you want to live your life and all but I am worried about you! I know that coming back has been hard and I get that but there are other coping mechanisms.”

John remained silent for a moment as he observed the concern etched into every feature of his closest friend, displayed on that familiar and glorious face for all to see. The younger man pondered over how to respond to the near yet subdued accusation and eventually settled on feigning ignorance for he answered coldly: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The captivating blue eyes that the bassist could have spent all day describing in the most intimate and minute of details had he not felt so irked by the man, were suddenly raised to glance at the ceiling in exasperation before flashing back to the taller man with a newfound, fiery intensity. “Oh come on, Deacy, don’t be so stubborn! You know what I mean. I’ve never seen you drink this much and so frequently before. It isn’t like you and I have no idea what it is that’s going on in that head of yours anymore.”

“Do I have to remind you _again_ that what I choose to do and why I do it has absolutely nothing to do with you?” John fired back, an underlying warning towards the other man crystal clear within his tone.

“Maybe it doesn’t but that doesn’t stop me from lying awake every fucking night wondering if you’re slowly killing yourself! I need for you to be at the very least on the right path to recovery after everything that’s happened and you seem to be going in the opposite direction. You’re scaring me.”

“Well, I am fucking sorry if I am not handling my divorce in the way you want me to, Roger. I apologise that _you_ are the one who feels hard done by now that my life is falling apart. I’ll try and be more conscious about your sleepless nights in the future, shall I?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Deacs and you know it. It’s killing me to see you like this. You seem to have closed yourself off to me lately and I don’t know why. Why won’t you talk to me? Maybe I can help.”

John averted his gaze from the man positioned so close to him that, had he leaned forwards any further, he would have pressed their chests together and shared in his blazing, seductive body heat. Their hearts that pounded together in perfect synchronisation like the good rhythm section they were felt almost entwined. The bassist hated just how much he despised the distance between their bodies and forced himself to increase it as he compressed his own frame even more tightly against the door for the precious few extra milimetres it would grant him.

“There isn’t anything you can do, Roger. This is just how it is.” The taller of the men spoke in earnest as he sighed, his eyes trained hopelessly and listlessly on the wooden floor. John discovered that, yet again, the drummer had torched and almost entirely set ablaze the barriers that protected the brunet so fiercely against the rest of the world. Roger was flying through those walls that stood tall and unyielding against everyone else as easily as if they had never existed in the first place and were nothing but a figment of his imagination. The journey that his friend’s gentle words were making in their attempt to take root within him burned in his veins with an unfamiliar sense of devotion and John’s heart longed to be satiated with their tenderness.

The desperation to give into Roger that the bassist had become so encompassed by frightened the brunet due to its intensity and caused his anxiety to skyrocket as he was uncertain as to why it had occurred. As a result, John did the only thing that he could think of that would build his secure barriers back up and around himself once more and decided it was time to hurt his friend, to mercilessly throw something in his face that would break his heart.

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” The bassist sneered as he once again lifted his icy gaze to meet Roger’s.

The blond blanched at his words, his large eyes widening ever more as he froze in shock. The man’s bright blue orbs darted all over the taller man’s face as Roger attempted to find some understanding in his features. The drummer was searching fruitlessly for a sign that he had misinterpreted his friend’s question as it was one he wasn’t ready to answer.

“Deacy, you know why I care.” The shorter man pleaded, a little desperately, willing John to end the conversation there and not to push any further into the truth that smouldered within his heart, charring it until it threatened to be reduced to nothing but rubble.

“Tell me. Tell me why you won’t leave me alone. Tell me why you are so desperate to be the one to make everything all better.”

“Because … well, because you mean a lot to me and there’s nothing in this world that hurts me more than seeing you in pain.”

“Tell me now, Roger. Explain to me what it is that won’t allow you to let me go. Say it to me.” John commanded as he finally pushed himself up from the door and to his full height, using the couple of extra inches he had on the other man in order to stand over him. He could feel the fiery trail of Roger’s compassion that had blazed within his own body flicker out as it became frozen over by the anxiety that urged John onwards and screamed at him that to push away this man would solve at least one of his problems.

Roger seemed to shrink under the chill of the brunet’s gaze and could no longer bring himself to meet his eyes as he continued to implore his friend that he should stop before it was too late for them both. “Don’t make me say it again. Please, John. It hurt so badly the first time. Don’t make me say it.”

“What is it that keeps you from leaving me be? Why can’t you let me self-destruct if that’s what I want? Why do you care, Roger?”

“Because I love you.” The drummer responded in a dejected voice that was so small and spiritless, it had barely reached the land of existence. “I love you so much.”

“Love.” John scoffed. “What the fuck do you know about love? When have you ever spared someone a second glance the moment you have left their bed in the morning? And even if you did, why would I need _your_ love?”

“Deacy… ” Roger began, horror and heartache awash within his voice however the bassist cut him off.

“No. I don’t need you to care for me just as I don’t need you to love me. I don’t need you, Roger. Did you ever think that I did?”

“I’m not stupid, John.” The blond spat indignantly in an attempt to fight back. However, he was unable to keep the quaver of a shattered heart from being evident within his voice and John had to force himself not to melt in sorrow due to its agonising sound at the man’s feet. “I never thought you loved me back but that didn’t matter to me. The fact that you don’t return my feelings isn’t relevant because I accepted long ago that you will never be mine but that didn’t just eradicate my own. It was never that easy. Don’t tell me not to feel the things that I do, don’t tell me not to love you because I can’t. I have tried to move on because living without you but knowing you’re all that I want is the hardest thing I have ever had to do yet I did it. I still do it everyday and I never wanted to hurt you with that. All I want is to see you smile, why is that such a bad thing?”

“You have wasted all of your time on me. Find someone who gives a crap about your feelings for them and _leave me the fuck alone_.” The brunet snapped as he shouldered his way past Roger and sprinted to his car in order to flee the scene of destruction caused by him and him alone.

As John drove far away from the avalanche he had sent hurtling down the mountain of his life that was smothering, suffocating and annihilating one of the closest relationships he had ever had, he found he could no longer breathe as sobs that shook through his whole body threatened to choke him. The bassist was forced to pull his car over onto the side of the road as his vision became so clouded by tears that the road ahead was nothing more than a blurred, black smudge ahead of his windscreen. After all, the man had only just received his license back and couldn’t afford to be pulled over for erratic driving, breathalysed and be given his second DUI in two years.

By the side of a pot-hole sprinkled road that begged to be repaired by a council who chose to ignore the damage, under the light of a weak English sun in late May, John Deacon broke down as everything he had ever cared about slipped from his grasp as if it was nothing but water in his hands. The brunet urged himself to think of anything at all besides Roger yet his mind seemed stuck on the mesmerising blue of the eyes that he had stared into for over a decade and a half. The heart that felt as though it had finally given up beating longed to be closer to the man who had captured its attention from the very first moment he had walked through the door of the audition room twenty minutes late, looking disheveled and with a wicked smirk as he spotted the brunet anxiously awaiting his arrival.

John had spent years steadfastly ignoring how the organ within his chest had always seemed sing and how he himself would come more alive just from sharing the same space as his friend. As a result, the realisation crashed heavily upon him as he spluttered and wept with his head resting on his steering wheel and his heart broke in the most excruciating way he had ever experienced.

He was in love with Roger Taylor and had just single-handedly driven him from his life perhaps permanently.

The next morning, following a night in a still unfamiliar flat that had not been kind enough to grant him the blessed release of sleep, the bassist called the band’s manager to inform him he would not be turning up to the remaining few days of rehearsals but would still be ready for their opening night. Miami accepted his news without question as, when the brunet had first called him to withdraw his resignation from the band months ago, the generous man had informed him that if there was anything at all he needed, he would ensure it would happen for him.

John remained locked up inside all day, his only company a bottle of champagne he had bought with Veronica after ‘You’re My Best Friend’ had entered the top ten and vowed they would drink together on the ten-year anniversary of its release. Now, that time had been and gone, the bottle was out-of-date and he was all alone with nothing at all as a cause for celebration. The bassist pondered how on earth everything had fallen apart within the last year of his life and thoughts of “It’s all my fault” had him reaching for his glass time and time again until the bottle was entirely drained. He himself mirrored the bottle as he felt so empty inside he couldn’t muster the energy to rifle through his well-stocked cupboards until he found some other liquid distraction from the sorrows of his life. At least, that’s what he assured himself was the reason and not the lingering memory of Roger’s concerned expression every time he had refilled his glass the day prior.

The following days blurred into one for the brunet as the time passed him by in a haze of tears; more alcohol once the craving had become too much to ignore; cigarette smoke and feelings reminiscent of the time his mother had taken him and his sister to the seaside one summer when they were young, and he had gotten lost and convinced himself he would never find his way back into the safety and comfort of arms that belonged to someone who loved him.

Darkness lurked like a demon would await you in hell at the edge of his vision after what he presumed was days but for all he knew may have only been a matter of hours, as the lack of sleep and copious amounts of alcohol eventually caught up with him and dragged him down into its inky depths. The dream that flickered behind his eyelids held images of a smiling face that caused his heart rate to pick up even as he slept. John was safe as he dreamt on and on as his subconscious wasn’t cruel enough to supply a reminder of how Roger would no longer grin for him and only him in intimate, private moments that only the two of them shared. For the first time in what felt as though it had been a lifetime, John was at peace and never wanted the sensation to end and drag him back into the battleground of his consciousness.

Eventually, the bassist’s slight glimmer of freedom was snatched away from him as the buzzer to his flat rang out through his room, startling him awake and off his sofa. The man ran unsteadily towards the source of the noise, trying to ignore the large part of his traitor of a brain that prayed that Roger was the source of the disruption.

“Hello?” The brunet questioned, his voice shaking and laced with anticipation to hear whom it was that lingered on the other end of the line and just outside his apartment block.

“Deacy, darling?” The voice of Freddie Mercury questioned and John had to force himself not to be disappointed.

“Hi, Freddie.”

“May I come up?”

“How could I ever say no to you?” The bassist chuckled wearily as he unlocked the door.

“That’s what I like to hear, my love.” The singer spoke before the intercom cut off and John became aware that his friend was climbing the stairs to reach him.

The brunet glanced around his flat and observed the destruction he had caused during the dank smog of his fresh heartbreak. Plates of uneaten food that he had forced himself to make before abandoning littered almost every surface that wasn’t taken up by empty bottles of some spirit or another. Clothes he hadn’t bothered to change into after stripping them from his wardrobes were strewn across the room and a layer of grime seemed to have crept onto his worktops and tables without him ever noticing. However, the man couldn’t find it within him to even make an attempt at hastily storing away the mess before he headed towards the door in order to await the approach of his friend.

Eventually, the man appeared with a brighter smile than John expected and a call of “Deacy, how lovely to see you again, dear!” that he was sure his entire building had heard.

“Hi, come in.” The taller man invited the moment that Freddie’s welcoming embrace had unfolded from around him and the two ventured inside the flat. The singer didn’t comment on the disarray of the other man’s home, for which John would be eternally grateful.

The two men perched on the sofa that had become more of John’s place of refuge than his own bed had been as of late and the elder turned to face him with a look he couldn’t quite place on his angled features. “How are you doing? We have missed you these last few days in rehearsals.”

“I’m sorry, Freddie. I just haven’t been up to it. I promise I’ll be ready for the tour, though.”

“Well, I am bloody glad you have said that, darling, considering we fly to Sweden tomorrow and don’t have time to find someone to fill in.”  
“Fuck! Tomorrow?” The younger almost shrieked in astonishment.

“Yes, tomorrow. That’s why I thought it was about time one of us came to see how you were doing. And may I say, John? I love you but you are not looking so well. Have you slept at all since the beginning of the week?”

“Not much.”

Freddie sighed and glanced down defeatedly before returning his penetrating gaze on the other. “Is there any point in me asking what is was that sent you ten steps backwards this week?”

“Not really.”

“I thought not. I hope you know that, whatever it was, whether you want to tell me or not, I am here for you. Deacy, dear, you are one of the people I love most in this world and I don’t ever want you to feel alone. You will always have me, you know that, right?”

“I do. Thank you.”

“Wonderful.” Freddie spoke tenderly as he rubbed his hand up and down John’s arm affectionately. “Well, now we will have to prepare you for tomorrow. How about you go and get yourself a nice, hot shower and change out of those old clothes while I will make a start on organising the things you will need for the tour. How about that?”

The bassist nodded his grateful assent towards his friend as he rose to his feet, preparing to do exactly as he was instructed by the older man.

“And I shall turn up the heating. Honestly, John, it’s freezing in here. I’m not sure how you haven’t frozen solid where you were sitting.”

John glanced back into the living room where Freddie was making a fuss over the thermostat that he now noticed was turned to its lowest level with a slight sense of bewilderment. In all the days he had spent holed away in the flat, he hadn’t noticed just how cold it had been and, with a heavy heart, deduced that that was likely as a result that he felt frostier inside himself than the room ever could. He could only pray that perhaps standing beneath the blistering spray of the shower would change that for him as he clambered underneath the head.

The remainder of the evening swept on by in a hurry as the two friends rushed to gather together everything the younger man would need for a couple of months on the road. As John observed the singer busying himself with the preparation that had nothing to do with him yet was generously choosing to do out of the goodness of his heart, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the man. The bassist was more than a little aware that he would never have lived through so many of the incredible things that had occurred during his life had it not been for this man by his side and would never want to experience them in the future if he ever wasn’t there to share in them with him. Freddie was his best friend and, as long as he was there, everything would be alright and he too could continue on.

It was in the early hours of the morning that the men had finished their task - and, additionally, the flat was surprisingly sparkling and free from clutter though John was sure he hadn’t had any hand in that and hadn’t even been aware that the singer had been cleaning whilst he worked.

The bassist bade his older friend a goodnight and vowed that he would see him the following day as the two stood in his doorway. “Thank you again, Freddie. For everything. I will see you tomorrow on that flight.”

“Yes, you will. I didn’t spend my last night in England for a month running around after you only for you to go dropping out on us now!”

“Of course not, I’ll be there. I promise.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear. Goodnight, dear.” The singer declared as he leaned inward to press a kiss to the taller man’s cheek.

Just as the man was about to disappear around the corner, down the stairs and out of sight for the hours that remained ahead of them, John couldn’t stop himself from asking the question that had been rolling around inside his head for hours like a tennis ball would on uneven ground. “Are the others going to be there?” The brunet mumbled, his words jumbling together in his haste to get them out before Freddie was gone.

“Hmm?” The other queried.

“The others. Brian and … erm … Brian and Roger. Will they be on the same flight as us?”

“Oh no, darling.” Freddie responded cheerily. “They flew out today. Don’t you worry, they will be there as soon as we arrive at the hotel waiting to see you again. It won’t be long until they are both driving you crazy again, especially that Roger. Our blond friend can be a bit of a nuisance, can’t he? He alone has the power to turn me grey.” The man chuckled heartily as he thought fondly of their absent bandmates.

“Yeah, he certainly can drive me crazy. Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight, darling!” The older man trilled and, with that, he was gone and John was alone with his thoughts once more.

The flight to Stockholm the next day ensued with Freddie talking his ear off about everything and anything from their upcoming tour to how much he already missed his cats however the bassist could scarcely focus on a word that left his mouth. His mind span more and more with every mile this half of Queen travelled eastwards as he was aware that the seconds until he saw Roger for the first time following the destruction of their friendship were swiftly disappearing before him. John wasn’t too proud to admit that he was afraid of what he would find at the other end of their journey. He didn’t expect for a second that the drummer would welcome him back into his searing embrace with open arms, as if nothing had happened, though he wished that could be the case even if he didn’t deserve such a gracious treatment from the man he now knew he loved.

For the first time, John would be faced with his closest friend whilst knowing that he was madly in love with him and to say that it was unfamiliar territory would have been the understatement of the century. The bassist would have been better off navigating the cosmos than his own emotional state in front of Roger, at least then he could have asked Brian for a helping hand.

As the moment the two of them would be reunited drew ever closer, the whirling of his mind escalated until his head was pounding and he was almost sure he was going to vomit from the nausea that had attacked his stomach and nervous system.

It was only in the car ride as John gazed blankly out of the blacked-out windows and into the city beyond that the singer commented on his friend’s state. “Deacy, darling. Are you alright? You look rather green.”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Travel sickness from the flight.” The younger man lied yet he seemed to have pacified his friend who merely patted an encouraging hand on his shoulder before returning to humming a tune that was unfamiliar to John under his breath.

The brunet willed his stomach to settle as he wanted to decipher what it was he thought he could say to the blond man whom had captured his heart so entirely that he had never fully been able to give his all to his wife during their marriage and perhaps that could have been one of the factors that had led to its demise. John despised himself for intentionally and oh so selfishly breaking Roger’s heart just in order to restore some semblance of comprehension into his own life. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how the drummer felt about him now and tears threatened to appear in his eyes at the knowledge that he would never, ever deserve the other man.

John hadn’t settled on anything of worth to say to Roger and he cursed the devilishly empty streets ahead of them that allowed their car to sail uncontested towards their destination with ease. As anxiety seeped its wicked venom through his veins, only the enticing allure of the well-stocked minibar that the bassist knew awaited him in his hotel room restrained him from throwing himself out of the vehicle and sprinting back towards the airport and away from the turbulence that lay ahead of him.

After what seemed like nowhere near enough time in the brunet’s opinion, they arrived outside of the hotel and their crew began to unload their luggage. John enquired if he could be of any assistance just to gain an extra precious moment or two before he was to be confronted by the consequences of his dire mistakes. However, try as he might, he wasn’t necessary and all of his attempts were brushed off by the crew until Freddie finally grabbed onto his arm with a titter and dragged him inside of the building.

Eyes wandered frantically around the hotel lobby and a heart began to pound unsteadily as the bassist searched desperately for a sign of Roger. The man wasn’t certain whether he was hoping to catch sight of that blond mess of hair or if he hoped it would be absent from his view for the foreseeable future. However, he didn’t have to ponder over the internal conflict for long as his gaze settled on the man in question, nestled in the corner over a game of Scrabble with the guitarist. As John traipsed towards them with Freddie bounding along behind, he observed with a fond amusement as Brian placed letters on the board with a smirk that brought a brooding scowl to the face of the drummer.

Roger narrowed his piercing, unforgettable eyes as he squinted at his own letters in an attempt to regain control of their game and was completely oblivious to the arrival of his bandmates. Subsequently, the curly-haired man was the first to become alerted to their presence and he stood to all of his impressive height as he greeted them, “How was your flight?” He enquired, beaming at the two.

“Just fine.” The singer responded brightly, “Although John here said it made him a little queasy. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“A little.” John confirmed as he accepted the guitarist’s affectionate nod in his direction.

The bassist’s stomach began to tumble like an acrobatics champion as he brought his gaze around to glance at the blond man who had abandoned his tiles in favour of bringing the oldest of their friends into his warm embrace. The two men began to laugh together at some joke that John had missed entirely and traded small talk as he could do nothing but wait for the drummer to set his sights on him, bile crawling up the back of his throat and his frozen heart threatening to splinter and crack within his chest.

After an eternity, Roger turned to face the brunet with his arm still slung around Freddie’s shoulder. “Hi, Deacs.” The blond spoke emotionlessly yet he kept his distance, choosing not to take even a single step towards him. Though John knew he was the one to blame for the cold-hearted distance that had grown between them, that knowledge didn’t eradicate the agony that pierced through his chest.

“Hi.” Was all that the youngest man was capable of croaking out as his voice was drowned out by the emotion that suffocated him from within. It had been only a matter of days since the bassist had last been in the presence of his once closest friend but it seemed he had already forgotten the intensity of his beauty and he found himself lost within the inferno that flickered in his gaze.

The drummer swiftly dropped their eye contact and returned to his game with the guitarist. Freddie spared them only a single look of bewilderment before he lounged himself across the blond’s lap in order to offer him some assistance is his attempt to finally knock Brian off the top of their personal Scrabble league table. John personally believed that it was a lost cause and that the guitarist would forever hold their record yet Roger’s determination was one of the things that he loved the most about him and he couldn’t help but admire him all the more.

Within an instant of his room key being placed into his hand, the brunet fled the lobby - where he felt as necessary as an umbrella during a prolonged drought - and into the safety of his room where he discovered the comfort that only a bottle of Jack Daniels could provide him.

The following day passed him by in the familiar blur of preparation for the opening night of their tour. He was ushered from place-to-place by their minders and found he was grateful that he didn’t have to form a single thought for himself for the duration of the day as everyone told him where he was to be and what he was to do.

As the time to step onto the stage drew closer, anticipation began to bubble away deep inside of him. Not only was the brunet itching to get his hands back on his instrument, he was also eager to share the stage with the other member of their solid rhythm section. The only interaction that the two of them had experienced with one another since the younger’s arrival had been during their sound-check when the bassist had hopped up onto the drum riser in order for them to play together and create their signature explosive sound. A thrill had ignited deep inside of the brunet as Roger had flashed him his mesmerising grin and, for a brief moment, it appeared that everything had returned to normal between them. However, the moment that they had abandoned the stage, the blond had returned to ignoring John’s existence, leaving him dejected and desperate to bask in the glow of their connection once more.

As the band stood in the wings awaiting their cue, John was pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with the drummer and could feel the tantalising warmth of the man’s body heat through his shirt. The bassist was unsure whether it was the cramped conditions that had forced them so close together it seemed as though they would fuse and become one or the pull that had drawn them to one another from the first day that they had met. A force that, now the brunet had acknowledged its existence, was so strong he was sure nothing in the world had the power to break it; not even John himself. As Roger shifted forwards to walk ahead of John and into position, the bassist stared wistfully at the back of his friend’s head yet it was with a newfound sense of hope as he made an oath to himself that he would somehow find a way to repair the bridges he had crushed beneath the force of his own treacherous actions.

The opening night of the Magic Tour was a colossal success in John’s opinion and he was sure his bandmates shared that belief. The Swedish crowd had been one of the best they had ever had and their energy had driven the band to perform better than even they could have expected they would. Adrenaline coursed through John, even long after he had exited the stage, and mixed with the alcohol of the celebratory drinks he consumed to form a confidence within the bassist that he wasn’t aware he had. The man decided he was ready to call time on the separation that existed offstage between him the drummer and steeled himself for the oncoming battle he was about to venture into. His feet carried him surely towards the other man whom was deep in discussion with an undeniably beautiful yet unfamiliar brunette woman who had clearly somehow managed to con her way backstage.

Without sparing the uninvited guest another thought, John stole Roger’s attention away from her with simple words: “Rog, can we talk?”

The blond offered his apologies to the woman and informed her he would be right back before he silently followed John to a quieter area of the room that was serving as the venue of the afterparty. The two men stood facing one another, neither saying a word and hardly even daring to breathe as the ruckus of the party faded out into the nothingness of irrelevance around them. The taller of the two gazed downwards into those sapphire blues that had haunted his dreams and everything that he’d had planned to say and had been perched on the tip of his tongue awaiting release suddenly died a merciless death inside of him. Nothing he had imagined could have prepared him for the expectant yet furious look that was etched into the drummer’s facial features as he remained silent to allow the bassist to say his piece. However, not a word escaped John’s mouth as the bravado he had previously felt dissipated into non-existence and his anxiety returned in full-force.

“Didn’t you want me to _leave you alone_?” The older man accused, the betrayal he had suffered still evident within his tone. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was having rather a nice chat with that woman over there and would like to be getting back to it, especially if you’ve dragged me over here for nothing.”

“I do have a reason.” The bassist blurted, suddenly afraid that his friend was about to leave. “I do. I promise I do.”

“Well?” Roger prompted.

“I wanted to apologise to you. The things I said last week, the things I made you say. I had no right to do that. I know that I hurt you, Roger and I am so sorry.”

The irritation in Roger’s rigid profile slipped away as his eyes fell to the ground. The tension displayed by his shoulders had been eradicated yet the brunet mournfully observed how they slunk under the pressure of his sorrow. “I thought you were going to shout at me again. I wasn’t expecting an apology.”

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you, you were only thinking of me. And I never, ever should have used the fact that you … well, I shouldn’t have used what you told me as ammunition against you just because I wanted to push you away. That isn’t right.”

“Why did you want to push me away?”

The bassist sighed as he gazed outwards into the sea of people laughing and drinking without a care in the world just so he wouldn’t have to witness unhappiness taint the face of the one he loved, especially since he knew he alone was the cause of that unhappiness.

“A lot of reasons, none of which were your fault, Rog.” John began with a shaking voice, “I was mad at you after you said I was drinking too much, but not because of what you said, I was mad at you because I knew you were right and I didn’t want to accept that. I know I’ve not really been doing so well lately. I’ve been finding just being alive harder than ever and I have never felt so alone and so lost. I’ve been hurting and I’ve been angry with the world but mostly with myself and I thought it would help to take it out on somebody and you seemed like the easiest choice because I knew you would always be there for me. I’ve always taken you for granted and I regret that. You deserve to always be at the top of someone’s priorities and I’m sorry I never gave you that. I am going to start doing that.”

“Why? I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. I know that you don’t see me the way that I see you and I don’t want you to force yourself to care just out of pity, okay? That’s so much worse than you not thinking of me at all.”

“Roger,” The bassist spoke abruptly and with such sincerity that Roger’s eyes snapped back upwards to meet the brunet’s once more. “That’s not what I’m doing. None of what I’m saying is coming from a place of pity for you. I know you well enough to know you’re strong enough to not need anyone feeling sorry for you and I would never waste the few morsels of sympathy I have to give on you because I know that you don’t need them. I save them for the sad saps who can’t seem to get anything right and that has never been you. You’re worth so much more than just my sympathy.”

“Then what do you mean? I don’t understand what you’re saying, John.”

“What I’m saying, or at least what I am trying to say, is that you mean more to me than I have ever let you know. More than I’ve ever even let myself know. You’re not as alone with your feelings as I led you and myself to believe. I have feelings for you too and I always have, they were just easier to ignore when I had someone else in my arms at night. I wanted to pretend they weren’t real and Veronica was my shield from them and, now that she’s gone, I have nothing to hide behind anymore. I thought that pushing you away would help me to disregard them but I was wrong. All that the distance did was highlight the intensity of how I feel and it drove me almost out of my mind.”

“John.” The drummer froze, his eyes wide and sparkling as he attempted to piece together the words that continued to ring through the silence shared between the men, words that seemed too good to be true. “Are you saying … wait, do you mean … no…”

“Yes,” John interrupted the other man’s agitated stammering in order to confirm his suspicions as he brought him into an embrace before finally announcing the truth he should have acknowledged years ago. “I’m saying that I love you too.”

The older man said nothing but allowed himself to be held by the arms of his friend, the man he loved. Though Roger’s silence worried the bassist and he was silently panicking, sure that he had gone too far, he refused to slacken the grip he had on the blond as he feared he would never again be able to experience it once they were parted.

Following another moment of agonising silence, John felt as Roger let out a heavy sob that shook his frame before he reached upwards to wind his arms around the bassist’s neck. Together, they remained locked in an embrace that neither of them wanted to end and John couldn’t have cared less that the blond’s tears were falling and beginning to stain his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Roger. For everything.”

“You’re a right prick, you know that?” Roger finally spoke from where his head was buried in the crook of the bassist’s neck and he gave a chuckle that lodged itself right into John’s heart and seared where it touched, warming him from the inside out.

“I know.” The brunet agreed as the two finally broke their hold on one another. In the moment that Roger reached down and entwined their fingers together, John felt a tear of his own trickle down his cheek as the chill that had taken root deep inside of him ever since the first day he’d realised he was no longer in love with his wife melted at the touch of the man he loved.

“Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want. We have the rest of our lives and I know that I want to spend mine with you.”

With a flash of the very same dazzling smile that had stolen the bassist’s heart away from the first moment he had ever been subject to it, Roger brought the taller man back into the safety of his arms as he vowed: “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on Tumblr!
> 
> I'm @roger-taylor-swift and I like you already.


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